


Not half as stupid

by SrebrnaFH



Series: Literal AU [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Literally Alternate Universe, M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:56:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16871656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH
Summary: Sherlock has to listen to reason





	Not half as stupid

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my drive for some time so I decided to dust it off, correct and post ;)

He languished. He vegetated. He existed, on the verge of extinction. He barely kept awake for most of the time.

The sofa became the safest place to be. He was afraid to go to his own bedroom now.

Someone was running up the stairs. Weird gait. They didn't ring the bell. So someone with the key, or met Mrs Hudson downstairs. Someone with a key meant…

He considered it carefully.

John.

Or his brother.

The steps were quick and light. Quite unlike either of them.

Quite like…

The door was slammed open and a deep, growly baritone demanded "Where are you? Come out right now!"

He froze, curled up on the sofa as he was. The man walking in the room had no right to exist, at all.

His exact copy, perfect twin, his _clone_ rounded the table and flopped on his chair. He watched him leaning forward and looking at his pained form on the couch.

A finger prodded his ankle.

"You alive?"

He tried unwinding from the foetal position, but somehow he couldn't.

"No" he grunted and hid his head in his shoulders to avoid the light.

The other one stood up and picked up a magazine.

"You like living in this kind of mess? I mean, you do realise you are making it more difficult for him."

"Gnhk."

"Oh, you had a domestic… but how the hell did you manage to produce this mess in such a short time?"

"A dom…" he sat up, moaning in pain at the pulled muscles. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

The other him looked… Sleek.

The muscles he had gained during his quest were bulging nicely, straining the shirt, and yet he remained slim, his hips hugged by a pair of well-cut suit trousers in deep aubergine. The shirt was a hue brighter, top two buttons open, showing to all the world…

"His tags?" he asked plaintively.

"He gave them to me for my birthday. Actually, he made a set for me and I wear both – and so does he" the man leaned closer and grimaced. "How long have you been just… staying like this?"

"What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"I meant, of the month" he turned away from the intense scrutiny of his twin.

"Twenty-fifth."

"Then twelve days."

"What happened? Did John… something happened to him didn't it? Is he hurt? In a hospital? _Dead_?"

He shrugged.

"What difference does it make for you? It's not _your_ John."

A short sigh.

"And neither is he _yours_. You never made the move."

He turned on the other one furiously "And what was I supposed to do?" he hissed. "He was barely talking to me after I came back. He was… He _is_ engaged. What do you suggest? That I go to him and beg him to take me in? Like… Like a third wheel? What am I supposed to be, the guilty pleasure, the shameful gay affair of a very strictly straight doctor Watson?"

His copy sat back, blinking.

"We can easily establish that neither of us has time-travelled and so this is an alternate universe situation rather than a risk of a time paradox, so I can tell you what I know. This may, but doesn't have to help… but I think _any_ change will help."

"Oh, just get out of here" he knew he was whining, but couldn't make himself talk properly.

"No" his copy's plain statement made him tighten his fists in frustration.

"I'm not a _child_ to be managed" he snarled.

"You are _me_ and you need to be managed, sometimes. And who better to tell you the sore truths than your other self?"

He shook with anger – and felt himself shivering from cold.

"Go on" he clenched his teeth and looked away from the apparition.

"If what I'm guessing is correct, our universes seem to be pretty similar, so almost everything that is true for me, should apply to you. First and foremost, John loves you" the other one said plainly. "He won't say it. Whatever happened between you, you have to bridge the gap. Disregard the girlfriend, there is no world in which John Watson won't choose you over some female. Also, not straight, very much not straight. I can attest to it myself. _Very_ enthusiastic in bed, very careful lover, open to suggestions and, in some aspects, much less experienced than us. You will both get some new insights once you start regular sexual relationship. Preferably use his bedroom for longer sessions, he is surprisingly vocal, especially if on the receiving end."

He felt his face growing hot at the very thought…

"He hates me" he blurted out finally. "I came back and he… he hit me, for disappearing and pretending to be dead. He has _Mary_ now and he is _vocal_ and _enthusiastic_ with her."

He saw his copy startle a bit.

"Mary, Mary Morstan?"

"Oh, so yours knows her, too? Lovely little blonde thing, all curls and smiles…"

"And lies, and sniper training."

He blinked.

"Ah. So that was what…"

"You probably saw it when you met her, right? Never met ours, only saw her on a recording. Mycroft arrested her when I was away. John noticed something off about her and asked my brother for help. But, it seems, we can pinpoint the problem here easily…" he leaned forward, his fingers together and face intent. "My John knew I was alive. By accident, I admit, but one of the happiest accidents in my life. Not my doing, he just was on scene before I managed to stop my pulse with the ball. Caught my wrist."

"John was hit by a bicycle and was thrown to the ground before he got to me" he whispered. "He was even in a hospital for a while, nervous breakdown and physical trauma…"

"Ah. So we have the exact point of divergence, done. Now, to cut this short – we don't want anyone walking in on us, right?"

He nodded emphatically.

"I came back, and it turned out that John and Mycroft were taking out local agents of Moriarty with a lot of success. Including one Mary Morstan, AKA Rose Atkins, a trained sniper and assassin in Moriary's employ. In your case she managed to get to John, he was probably too vulnerable and gave in easier than mine. I apologised _profusely_ , I explained the details, he was properly horrified hearing about the snipers (including Miss Morstan, actually), he fell into my arms, I into his, happily ever after."

"You two…" he made a gesture. "Since you came back?"

"Well, three weeks after. Which makes this our first anniversary."

"Oh" he winced. "You came back earlier. It's been four months for me."

"Shit" his copy said softly. "Not... not good. But we'll make do. Now, you have stuff to do. Go, take a shower, _now_. Whatever happens, you have to pick yourself up. Stop moping about. John won't find _that_ attractive. I will…" his double shook his head. "I will clean up. _A bit_. I can't believe I'm saying this, but compared to our flat this looks like a disaster zone. No way your John will be willing to stay here a second longer than necessary."

He slowly uncurled himself from the sofa and wobbled a bit, watching his double flitting about, putting the living room to rights.

"Just don't…"

"I won't throw anything away. I _am_ you, aren't I? Now, wash, shave… do something about that hair, looks like a nest. John likes it fluffy, by the way, no product at all."

He turned to look at the "clone" and the man is positively high on something. No drugs, though. John would never, in any reality, be happy with him using. He barely tolerated cigarettes…

"Why are you doing this?" he asked finally, voice a bit wobbly -- maybe.

His duplicate looked up at him from over an armful of dirty laundry.

"If you were shot back to the twenty ninth of January and saw a younger you leaving Bart's without going to the lab, would you have told him to turn back and wait for Mike?"

He nodded wordlessly.

"This is the same. I see you making an error that I managed to avoid – luck was on my side – so I am trying to make sure you don't miss your chance. I mean, plural you."

"But…"

"I love John" the other one sighed. "I can't think about making him suffer. That also means _your_ John suffering because of _you_. Now, shower. You stink. And be quick about it, we still need to work out what to do about Mary."

He shook his head, trying to vocalise the guess he had just made.

"You have a box in your pocket" he finally decided. "You had plans for that evening."

"I definitely did" the other him smiled wistfully. "I know he doesn't expect me to follow convention, but I know _he_ would be happy…"

He bit his lip for a moment.

"Show me?"

 

#

 

John slowly closed the door behind himself, squinting in the full sun, breathing deeply.

_Now or never._

He turned back, pushed the knocker to the left and opened the door, praying for some visible change.

The corridor looked the same, but there was no John standing at the top of the stairs.

There was Sherlock however.

Or _a_ Sherlock.

The man was now descending the stairs, looking at him intently, until they were nose to nose, with pale – clean – eyes watching him curiously.

"I can see it now" a warm whisper curled around his lips. "You were hurt. He was hurt, too. He is still hurting, you only have to pay attention."

"W…"

"I sometimes think John made me a better man for nothing. Had I been my selfish self, I would have shown you now what you are missing, how good the two of you can be. I would have known what it is to kiss John Watson for the first time twice. But I will let the two of you have _your_ actual first time."

"How…"

" _My_ John talks to me. Talk to your Sherlock."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [my tumblr](https://srebrnafh.tumblr.com/).  
> [My writing blog.](https://fanfik.wordpress.com/)  
> [My handmade blog.](https://srebrna.wordpress.com/)
> 
> Edit (April 2019):  
> I am taking a writing course and one of the tasks is to ask my readers to describe my writing style in 3 adjectives. I'd be grateful if you could provide this kind of feedback :)  
> (if you provided it already somewhere else - THANK YOU! :))


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